Lydia Bennet's Story (17 page)

Lydia had never been told off quite like it before in her life; she was sure her mother would have been disgusted with her aunt if only she had known. Mindful of Mr Darcy’s dire warnings about upsetting her aunt, she managed to endure the worst by engaging her thoughts on last night’s passionate embraces, the memory of which had her blushing with blissful recall. Her aunt instantly took her reddened cheeks and downcast eyes to show contrition, so for the time being, she was left alone to consider how fortunate she was that the disgrace she had brought upon her family would be slightly lessened by the fact that she was to become a respectable married woman.

George called that evening and dined with them all. It was very strange to have to say goodnight to him, but Lydia was glad they were at least left alone for ten minutes in the hallway. How she would ever sleep that night without him to alleviate her restless spirits she did not know. He did his best in the confines of the cramped corridor, but all was totally unsatisfactory as his kisses only left her longing for more.

Friday, August 20th
I was allowed to go shopping for wedding clothes today and have made some good purchases, despite being forced to comply with every one of my aunt’s wishes. She gave instructions to the dressmaker for gowns with such a high décolletage that I shall look like an old matron. Every style she chose for me was at least two years out of date. My only comfort is that the dressmaker seemed to see my point of view, and I hope that my whispered entreaties will win the day. I am to wear cream silk on my wedding day with a blue bonnet and accessories, but I long to know which coat George is to wear. I favour his blue, and I declare no one ever saw a more handsome picture than him in it.

The days drag along so slowly. I am scolded on a daily basis. Nothing I do or say seems to please my aunt, who is as badtempered as ever, making no attempt to understand me. Nobody seems to realise how much in love I am with George and that we didn’t have a choice about running away together. I am sure my aunt has forgotten what it is to be young and smitten with a young man, and I daresay she never loved Mr Gardiner with half the passion I have for my Georgie. Uncle Edward, it has to be said, whilst being a very affable kind of fellow, is not the sort to inspire passion in anyone, least of all my aunt. But then, it is very difficult trying to imagine one’s elders submitting to their feelings. I cannot begin to think about mama and papa being in love, and as for fervent ardour . . . well, perhaps the less said or thought about that the better.

I only live for George’s visits, but even he does not please me today. When I first came here, he would visit all day and sit with me, but lately he has taken to disappearing for hours at a time and only turns up for his dinner. I have told him how lonely I am, but it is as if he does not hear me. I cannot wait until we are married and then we shall be in company with one another as much as I please! I love my darling angel so much and long for the day we are united as man and wife!

LYDIA WAS SITTING WITH her aunt the next day, wishing that she did not have to endure yet another reprimand nor hear her aunt cluck once more in dismay, when the door opened and in stepped Mr Wickham with a jaunty air and a grin on his face. “Good morning, ladies, is it not a wonderful day? I have good news! It is all arranged, my love,” he said, turning to Lydia. “We are shortly to be removing to Newcastle!”

Where on earth is that?”
“Lydia!” admonished her aunt. “There is no need for such
blasphemy!”
“How can we leave all our friends, Georgie?” Lydia persisted.
“I do not know that I care to go to this Newcastle place, and in
any case, what on earth will we do there?”
“I am to go into the regulars. I have an ensigncy in General
Turnbull’s regiment. You will soon make new friends, have new
favourites, my dear.”
“Oh, a new regiment, you should have said so at once, my
dear. How thrilling! Now that puts quite a different light on the
matter. How envious Kitty will be; a whole new regiment of
soldiers to be discovered and courted,” she shouted, leaping up
to hug her fiancé. “Though to be sure, Mr Wickham will always
have first place in my heart,” she added, glancing at her aunt
whose eyebrows were raised to the heavens.
“George, shall we have a large house in Newcastle? My
sisters will be able to visit us and see for themselves how well you
have done.”
“I am sure we shall be very comfortable, my love. We will
soon find some lodgings to suit us.”
“Lodgings! Tush, George! We must have our own house. I
can see it now, just on the edge of town, with ten windows either
side of a large front door and a gravel sweep! I long to see to
everything. We must have new furniture, and we mustn’t leave
London without going to Wedgwood’s for a new dinner service.
You know we can afford it now that Mr Darcy has given you
some money.”
“Lydia, I do not think it at all prudent to be spending money
in such an ill-advised fashion,” interrupted her aunt. “You must
learn to live within your means. I know some more reasonable
warehouses where you may purchase china that will be more
than adequate for your requirements. You will not be expected
to entertain very often, and an expensive dinner service will
only be a waste of money. If you are careful, and Mr Wickham
works hard and is promoted, well, then you may have the cause
and the funds for fancy things in Newcastle, but mark my words,
Lydia, spend unwisely now and you will live to regret it.” Lydia did not listen. She did not care. Soon she would be gone and she
would no longer have to listen to her aunt’s rantings. They were to travel to Newcastle immediately after they
were married! But Lydia longed to see her mama and sisters
before they went, and she was quite prepared to meet with her
papa if he would be kind to her. How she would love to see all
their faces and show off her ring. Married before any of the other
Bennet girls; as her mama had always said, how jealous of her
they would be. She did hope Elizabeth would not be too upset
with her for stealing her beau. Lydia had thought her sister had
had very high hopes of securing his affections once upon a time.
Poor Lizzy and Jane—to be old maids and not know anything of
the joy of married life. How Lydia felt for them.
She was a little sad at not being able to see Harriet or Isabella, but
she was sure they would meet from time to time. Her mother and poor
sisters would not be able to see her for many years, but they would just
have to get used to the dullness and silence, which would inevitably
ensue when she was gone to the North. Poor wretched souls!

Monday morning dawned at last; Lydia had hardly slept a wink during the night for all the nightmares she had, dreaming she was late to the church, dreaming that Wickham could not wait for her and that she was forced to marry Mr Darcy instead. She was so tired by the time she sat to her breakfast at ten that her aunt reprimanded her a dozen times for insolence and a host of other crimes because she was too tired to open her mouth.

“Civility costs nothing, Lydia. I would have thought you could have wished your aunt good morning at the very least on this, your wedding day. All the trouble you have put your family to and you cannot find the tongue you were born with.”

“I didn’t sleep well, and I am so fagged I couldn’t care if I had upset the King of England, let alone my family. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Lydia, you must learn to speak in a more ladylike fashion and have a little more respect for your relatives, as well as the monarchy, though I am not so sure they deserve it. Still, I do not know what your mother would think if she could hear you running on so.”

Lydia’s poor nerves were quite torn to shreds before they had even arrived at St. Clement’s. Aunt Gardiner continued to abuse her and preach at her all the morning whilst she tried her hardest to dress. She could not understand why everyone was so vexed with her. Perhaps she had been unwise to run away, but she was so in love with George that she was not answerable for her actions. Could they not see that she had acted with the very best of intentions? George had needed her, she was in love with him, and that was all there was to the matter. She pulled on her gloves and stood in front of the glass. On the whole, she was pleased with her appearance. She wore a new cream silk dress with a short pelisse over, a hat of blue satin with a cream lace veil, decorated with sprigs of convolvulus—quite the latest accessory.

At the last minute, her uncle was called away by his business associate, Mr Stone, just as the carriage was arriving, and Lydia was thrown once more into the throes of anxiety, fearing that they would be late and that Wickham would think she was not coming. At last he appeared and off they set, her aunt’s scolding resounding in her ears and only the thought of seeing her darling Georgie and knowing that she was to be united with him in holy matrimony prevented her from having a fainting fit or running away.

Lydia thought Mr Wickham looked as handsome as the devil in his blue coat and cut such a dash that Mr Darcy, who stood gravely beside him, paled into insignificance. Why he had to be there Lydia could not understand. She thought he had interfered quite enough already and suspected that her lack of wedding clothes had been a result of his all too frequent conversations with her aunt. She wished she could have been married from home with all her friends to see her and was sure her mama would have preferred it. Longbourn church would have been filled with people and posies. There was scarce a creature to be seen near St Clement’s: hardly a soul inside it nor a flower in sight! There was no music, and she knew there would be no peal of bells on the way out. Nevertheless, as she hung onto her uncle’s arm and walked up the aisle, she smiled to herself at the thought that this was, after all, her wedding day; she was to be married before any of her sisters!

The bride was all beaming smiles and could not stop giggling at Wickham, who looked the very picture of solemnity, his face the same ashen shade as the statues who guarded their loved ones out in the graveyard. Lydia let go her uncle’s arm as soon as she could to stand at George’s side. She smiled up at him. “I shall laugh out loud, Georgie, if you wear that expression much longer. Do not tease me so on my wedding day,” she whispered before giggling into her prayer book. He bit his lip, his brow furrowing as though the weight of the world had been laid upon him.

The ceremony passed off exceedingly well, Lydia decided, despite Mr Wickham’s voice being so quiet as to be hardly heard and for Lydia’s unfortunate trip up the aisle on the way out which scuffed her new shoes. “You should learn to keep a tighter hold on my arm,” she scolded. “Indeed, you are a little tardy in these matters, Mr Wickham. If only you would attend more.”

“You should look where you are going,” he responded in a surly tone, letting go of her arm. “If your mouth were still for long enough, instead of being engaged in gabbing to anyone who will listen for two half seconds together, you might have been aware of the uneven paving and the direction in which you were walking!”

Mr Darcy spoke only two words to her all morning and neither was an expression of congratulation for either of them. George held out his hand to him, but Lydia noticed that a moment or two passed before the other proffered his to shake, and then it was done in such a paltry manner she did not know why he bothered. To tell the truth, everyone seemed out of sorts, and why they could not be happy for her was a mystery. However, Lydia was determined to enjoy the day, even if she had to do it on her own! She smirked and smiled as though her life depended on it, and even when George left her on the steps of the church to take his seat in the carriage without first handing her in, she was able to forgive him and remain cheerful. She imagined he had merely forgotten her in his haste to escape from Mr Darcy!

At last they were able to take leave of her relatives, and she imagined their regard for one another to be mutual, in that, were their paths never to cross again, no feelings on either side would be injured. They set off in the chaise and were to meet Mr Bennet’s carriage at Hoddesdon. Mr Wickham was very quiet throughout the entire journey; indeed Lydia declared he looked most ill.

“You are very quiet today, Mr Wickham, I declare I never saw you such a ninny. Are you feeling quite well?” She put her hand on his forehead. “You do feel awfully clammy. I know what must ail you; Mr Darcy took you out last night to celebrate your impending nuptials and you had a bad oyster, am I right?” Mr Wickham stared out through the window, his expression remaining impassive.

“La, you cannot even laugh at my jokes, you must be sickening for something. What is it George? I hope you are not going to be ill for our wedding night. George, I have an awful foreboding. Tell me I am wrong. Will it truly be as fun, now it is legal and aboveboard?” She laughed at her questions, but George Wickham would not be cajoled out of his silent inclination until they reached the inn, and he would not speak to his wife other than to say that she must not divulge the fact that Mr Darcy was at their wedding to anyone at home.